


Manchester

by zeezee



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 23:18:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10346826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeezee/pseuds/zeezee
Summary: I wish I could fall in love with this citythe way that I fell in love with you:quick and over coffeeOn Dan's first day in Manchester he decides he hates the city. And he definitely didn't move here for some guy because he doesn't even like him that much.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the poem Melbourne by Trista Mateer.

_I wish I could fall in love with this city_

_the way that I fell in love with you:_

_quick and over coffee_

* * *

Manchester seemed like a good idea at first. The perfect complement to Wokingham. Slow vs fast, quiet vs loud, cold vs warm, them vs him. Ten minutes past a half hearted goodbye found you staring out the open window, the realization of what the next few months hold crashing into you face first, winding you, throwing you back, ripping out every insecurity meticulously hidden. 

You came here for a boy. Scholarships and prestigious degree programs presented a nice rouse, but the truth was that. A boy. Do you even like him that much? Maybe the voice was right. You let your heart win out your brain. Typical.

 _Make the best of a crappy situation_ you decide. That’s what adults do, right? Find the best in the worst and pretend like the rest doesn’t bother them.

Lights pass by lazily in the periphery, the slow beat of the fan matching the beat of your heart. _The cars will lull me to sleep_ you think as you pump up your iPod _._ You think of the next few weeks. How many will be spent drunk? How many will be spent stressed out? How many will be spent with him? You shake the thought from your head. _I don’t even like him that much_. You get up and shut the window. There was a weird smell outside anyways.

He wants to see you the next day. Actually he wanted to see you yesterday but you needed to convince yourself you didn’t move hundreds of miles away just for someone you met online. _I know a nice restaurant we can check out_ he says. _We can grab milkshakes after, they have all these ingredients and you can make your own custom one. I think I’m going to go for-_ you tune him out. A restaurant? That seems too much like a date. You don’t like him that much. Besides, Manchester is gross and rainy and doesn’t bode with your hair. _Actually_ \- cutting him off, _I have to make sure I did all the preclass assignments so I don’t think I’m going to be able to stay out long, coffee maybe?_ You pretend like the hitch in his voice when he says ok doesn’t bother you because _you don’t like him that much_ you remind yourself.

Coffee is nice. Neutral. Friends get coffee together all the time. Hell half the entire plot of _FRIENDS_ took place in a coffee shop. _I’m so Chandler_ you told the tonberry, _but I don’t know who he would be. I guess Joey since they’re a pair and we’re a pair but he’s kinda also a Phoebe._ You spray cologne once more before you lock up _just for good measure_ you think and definitely  not because he told you he likes the smell of Paco Rabbane on you. You run back inside before you get to the elevator because while thinking of him you forgot to turn the straightener off.

You get splashed by a car on the way there. _Fucking Manchester and its goddamn rain. I should have gone to London. Or Berlin. Even New York._ A business man shoves you as you try and orient yourself, nearly pushing you onto the road. _Who decided cities were necessary. Just use a car, greatest invention ever. Also how the fuck do I know where North is._ You decide you hate Manchester by the time you get there.

There are two caramel macchiatos laid out on the table next to a chocolate chip cookie. _My treat_ he says, _welcome to the great city of Manchester!_ You take a bite of the cookie and down it with a swig of coffee. You need time to pretend like the flutter in your stomach when he correctly guessed your order is nothing since you don’t even like him that much. _Yeah well Manchester is kinda shit_ you say, mixing your coffee because after a mouthful of espresso and an eyeful of his face you remember that’s what you’re supposed to do.

Time drags by. Small talk supplemented by sips of coffee. The rain has settled and you watched the day turn to dusk turn to night. You learned a lot about him in the time you’ve been here. Like how he filmed a horror movie with his friends and brother when he was eleven. And he eats cereal nine time out of ten not because he’s counting pennies but because he genuinely likes cereal. And how he has a journal full of ideas that will never see the light of day because he’s self conscious about people thinking he’s weird. You think it’s endearing how he cares so much about his viewers, you just put out what you want. The mantra that echoes in your head quiets a little but doesn’t cease.

 _Why do you hate Manchester so much_ he asks. The shop is closing soon. You’re sprawled out on the seat, legs dangling watching people on line. _I dunno_ you mumble. You clear your throat and sit up. _I just haven’t had the best experience so far._ You don’t want to look at his face because the last time you did you missed half a conversation about Mario Kart because every time his tongue poked out his eyes sparkled a little and your stomach sank to your toes. You force yourself to remember, _you don’t like him that much_.

 _Hey_ he whispers, _is everything alright?_ You’re forced to look at him. Damnit. _Yeah_ you answer not so confidently. _Just stressed because of the move and the term starting_. Both of you pretend like that was convincing. You decide to change the topic. _Did I ever tell you about that time my mum and I found a dead bird and nursed it back to health_ you ask. He shakes his head and leans forward. _Yeah well one time my mum and I found a dead bird and nursed it back to health_ you deadpan. And he laughs. He doesn’t chuckle, he doesn’t giggle. He laughs. Throwing his head back and shutting his eyes he laughs and laughs and laughs. He laughs like it’s the most incredible story ever even though it’s not. Laughs like he’s sure that you’re the funniest person he knows even though you’re not. And when he’s done he has to catch his breath but he’s still smiling wide and between his almost shut eyelids his eyes are still twinkling and you stop breathing. _Fuck_ you think. _Fuck fuck shit shit no_. He wipes a nonexistent tear from his eye. _That was incredible_ he wheezes out. He looks in love. He looks in love with you. But he can’t be in love with you because _you_ don’t even like him that much.

He offers to drop you off to your dorm. The rain started again and you being that genius that you are left your umbrella in Wokingham of all places. He huddles next to you at the crosswalk. The fabric of his jacket lightly brushing against your cloth hoodie. _Look_ he whispers. You glance around but find nothing interesting. _No,_ he presses, _**look**. Look at the lights reflecting off the road, look at the clouds guarding above us, look at the people. Nothing is the same, everything is unique. Everything has its own story, that’s what I love about Manchester. _ You try to understand. 

He waits patiently outside your dorm building as your dig through your pockets for your ID. _Honestly_ you huff, _I got it from here, you can go home now._ He shrugs and bounces on his feet. You finally open the door and he follows you inside.  Outside your door he looks like he wants to say something. You ignore your brain pressuring you to ask him. Once you get it open you turn to him. Your _I guess I’ll see you later_ is caught in between his _I’m really happy you moved here._ Silence brews until a small _what_ is what you decide to go for _._ He’s fidgeting with the drawstring on his coat. _I really like you and I really love this city. My two favorite things are finally in one place._ You’re too stunned to answer. The door is still open and there’s a draft coming from the window you forgot to close. You finally muster out _I really hope I can love this city as much as you do._ His eyes shine and suddenly you’re wrapped in his warmth. It’s short but long enough for you to feel his hair on your cheek. Long enough for you to smell his brand new _color proof shampoo that won’t fade my hair but kinda smells like a perfume factory_ as he raved over the phone. Long enough for you to feel the slight pressure of his lips against your cheek as he pulls away. _I guess I’ll see you later_ he breathes and then he’s gone.

Inside your desk is wet from the rain and your pillows smell of the sewage from outside. You set your keys down on the bed and finally you know. You really **do** like him that much. Outside sirens decorate the night accompanied by barking and the banter of drunkards. _Yeah,_ you think, _I could fall in love with this city._ That night you fall asleep with the window open.


End file.
